


Working Vacation

by hannahrhen



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abduction, Consent Issues, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Oral Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks in Loki's custody, and Tony <em>still</em> doesn't want to be rescued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> An offshoot of one of my Frostiron drabbles, [Stockholmed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/634946/chapters/1153312).
> 
> Changed "Mildly Dubious Consent" tag to "Consent Issues"--I'm assuming Tony was kidnapped at the beginning of this and maybe didn't have much standing to say no (if it's a sequel to the work above), though he obviously (enthusiastically) said yes.

Loki tapped his fingers on the desk, knowing everything about the sound, his pose, and the ever-satisfied look on his face was calculated to annoy. And it was succeeding.

He was surprised that the first rescue effort was just one man, Captain America, and in street clothes, no less. Collared white shirt tucked into jeans, hair carefully combed. He looked like a supplicant for financial favor, rather than a savior.

But then, this was no regular rescue.

Secreted away from his tower one night, Tony Stark had been in Loki’s “care” for two weeks —his location and condition completely hidden for the first seven days. His frantic teammates knowing nothing of what was being done to him, Loki thought, pleased, nor how the man was pleading ever more insistently as each day passed. 

If they knew _what_ he was begging for …

Then, Stark, with his lovely mind and iron resolve, had rigged enough of the electronics and communications systems to record and send a message:

> “Hey, yeah, it’s me. Uhhh … it’s all good. I’m good. Just hanging out. With Loki. And I’m going to be here for awhile. But, really, we’re okay. He’s … uhh, okay. So … yeah, talk to you soon? Don’t worry. Bye!”

Not the message the team expected, perhaps. Nor the one Loki thought Stark would send. 

When Loki had discovered the broken drywall and pulled cables, hidden halfheartedly behind some of the office space's rented generic artwork, he had forced Stark to replay the message. After, he had studied the man, bemused. Stark had simply shrugged, then slid closer into Loki’s space.

He offered a sheepish smile. “What? They’ll be worried.”

Loki tried to figure out if Stark was just that cheeky. “And now they’ll be coming.” He didn’t give ground as Stark’s fingers trailed up his arm.

“They’d come anyway. This way, they won’t tear the building down when they get here.” Tightening fingers around Loki’s elbow, he’d then pulled the other man across the room, to the bed. “You said you’d punish me if I contacted them.” He pulled Loki close, placed a soft, teasing kiss at the base of his throat. “You gonna make good on that?”

Loki rolled his eyes, but gave in to the coercion, sliding his arms first around Stark’s waist, then lower. “I should leave you to the punishment of your heroes. I expect you’ll enjoy it less.”

Tony gasped as Loki’s strong grip found his ass. Then he wriggled a little, chuckling into Loki’s kisses. “Yeah, they aren’t usually as literal about the spanking.” Loki hummed agreement into the hair behind Stark’s ear, then bit the flesh gently before moving Stark onto the bed.

***

It had taken a week for Rogers to appear. Loki wasn’t terrifically impressed—his “hideout” was a luxury mixed-use space eight blocks from Stark’s home. Leased under the name Laufeyson. From Stark's rambling message to the other team members' inability to follow a clue, the Avengers were apparently uniformly inelegant.

Which may have gone far to explain Rogers’ constipated look as he took a seat across Loki’s enormous desk. “Look—let’s keep this simple.” He leaned forward. “We just want Tony returned.”

Loki leaned back, his decadently expensive chair adjusting without a creak. “And, yet, he doesn’t want to go.” His tone was perfectly reasonable.

The Captain’s was not. “We need to hear that from him.”

Loki tilted his head. Bluntly: “No. He's occupied.”

Rogers’ eyes narrowed. “'Occupied.' That sounds ... I’m sorry, Loki—you suggest he doesn't want to go, but it’s just hard to believe he--” 

Loki waved a hand, offered a half-smile, then: “Irrelevant. I’m not giving him back.”

Rogers sighed—a whisper of exasperation. “You can’t keep him prisoner; it doesn't work like that.”

“He’s not a prisoner, Captain. As I said--he's occupied.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?"

"I need him ... for the work he's doing."

"And that is--"

"He is of a specific kind of use to me." Loki pretended to deliberate. "There are different names for it ... But he is in ... well, in less-enlightened times, you might have called it a harem. A harem of one, if you will. It’s an honored position,” he mock-confided, nodding. Then he followed the red splotches creeping up from Rogers’ bleached-white collar to his jawline.

“What exactly— What I mean to say is, what does that mean, exactly, in your culture?”

Loki’s mouth quirked. “I expect the same as in yours. People kept in custody, protected, often for the purpose of pleasure.”

“You mean … women.” Steve cleared his throat. "Women."

“I mean precious individuals, Captain." Loki layered on the disapproval. "Let’s not be biased.” Then, cheerily: "You shouldn't worry. He's well-rested. I keep him in bed almost constantly."

Rogers started at Loki, mouth hanging open, for several seconds before composing himself. Trying to compose himself. He took a deep breath. “Let me … umm—get this straight. You’re keeping Iron Man hostage, not for … his skills, but … “ Rogers clearly heard his own words and had to stop, swallowing. The flush spread to his cheeks. “He’s a—”

“He’s being taken care of.” A moment to let those images take hold, before adding a few more: “And taking care of his host in turn. Most capably.”

Another several seconds of silence. The man’s entire face was on fire now, but he’d obviously be damned before he’d acknowledge it. “We still … uh.” Rogers paused, thought longer. Finally pushed forward with the hard-won words. “I’m still pretty certain that’s not legal. Now.”

“Consensual relations aren’t legal, Captain? That’s news to me. And I'm not paying him, after all. We're working it out. In trade.” The last words left his mouth in a confidential hush.

And that got Rogers, finally. The man certainly had formed his opinion of—and had passed judgment on—Stark’s flexible morality. Loki knew: The Captain wasn’t certain. Didn't have _this_ much faith in his troublesome teammate. He would retreat to the safety of SHIELD until he was sure.

Sure enough, Rogers braced himself on the arms of the generic reception chair he sat in, nothing like Loki’s lovely Herman Miller, and started to push himself up—a little unsteadily, Loki noted with satisfaction.

“I’m going to need to talk to Fury about this.” Ah, yes, the return of the “determined” look the Captain was so famous for. “We’re still going to want to see Stark. We need to hear it from him ... that he ... uh, wants to be here.”

“Certainly. Just let me know ahead of time, so I can find him some clothing.” Loki held in his chuckle just until Rogers had flustered his way out of his office, offering to the man’s back, “My number’s listed!”

***

Later, Tony heard the story from Loki’s own mouth—when it wasn’t filled with Tony’s cock. He replied, voice heavy with heat as he looked down at the god, “Yeah, nothing you told him made this situation any better. You know that, right?” He stroked fingers gently through Loki’s hair, tugging a bit to prompt an answer. “A harem? Jesus. Rogers might have preferred the term 'cat house.'”

Loki pulled off, giving Tony a stern look. “I just thwarted the Avengers’ pathetic ‘rescue’ attempt by planting a series of salacious images in Captain Rogers’ mind. That has improved the situation greatly. From my point of view.”

“And now they’re going to think I’ve been Stockholm-syndromed in less time than it takes Pepper’s manicure to wear off.” He touched Loki’s mouth, ran a thumb along his swollen bottom lip. He hesitated between pushing Loki back to his cock or pulling him up to try something else.

Loki kissed the pad, licked to taste Tony’s skin. “Yes, well—I’m very persuasive.”

“You are, at that.” Decided, Tony tugged Loki up off his knees, and the god climbed over Stark’s naked form as they moved up toward the headboard. Tony waited for Loki to meet his eyes before he spoke again. “It’s been fun, regardless of how awkward re-entry is going to be.”

“Indeed.” Loki settled between Tony’s legs, arranging them perfectly around his own hips, to start a sweet grind—making Tony slow down enough so he could catch up.

Tony groaned, going quiet for a moment until he remembered. “So, we can do it again?”

“Oh, yes. You do seem to benefit from a … working vacation.”

Tony’s laugh was cut short by a kiss, and when his vacation was cut short the next day by an indignant Captain America and crew, he and Loki parted with conspiratorial smiles. And Tony was as relaxed as he’d been in years.

**Author's Note:**

> Went further with Stockholmed!Stark in another story: [Good, Giving, Game](http://archiveofourown.org/works/770952).
> 
> Thanks for reading, y'all! You can find me publicly hand-wringing over my writing, or fangirling over other people's, on Tumblr: <http://hannahrhen.tumblr.com/>


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